


Dinner and a Show

by OlyaNeverWrites



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: (the meta starts in chapter 2 btw), Alex: at least I get paid, Crack, Fluff, I will rain hellfire and glitter on you, M/M, MI6 thrust Alex into this position, Meta, Yassen is protective, also Alex: come AT me MI6 motherfuckers, if they didn't want Alex getting any ideas they shouldn't have stripped him when they first met him, nobody should be allowed to touch Alex without his permission, not his fault if it's a compromising one, there are standards that come with being around Alex Rider and Yassen will hold you to them, whether "his permission" refers to Alex or to Yassen is up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlyaNeverWrites/pseuds/OlyaNeverWrites
Summary: It is entirely MI6’s fault. If they hadn’t wanted him to pursue alternative revenue streams, they shouldn’t have sent him on a mission involving him prancing around a stage in shiny shorts and a Captain America crop top. They shouldn’t have let him discover that he did indeed have a knack for highly suggestive dancing and garment removal. If they hadn’t wanted him to start stripping, they should not have strongarmed him into trying a job that involved having literal wads of cash shoved into his jockstrap. They should’ve paid him more. Or at all.And handsy patrons at the strip club shouldn't underestimate the protective instincts of a presumed-dead assassin with a possessive streak.
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 31
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Due to the surprise addition of the second chapter, the rating of this piece has been increased from Teen to Mature. The first chapter is teen-appropriate fluff. The second chapter is not explicit but has some more adult content. Proceed accordingly.
> 
> Thank you to rirren for throwing fuel on the stripper!Alex fire and to Ireliss for encouraging me to post this. And to Sigma for encouraging me to post the second chapter, and to pongnosis's incredible work _The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea_ and BurntWhisper's fabulous _One Year_ for inspiring the cabin in the second chapter.
> 
> If you're looking for a soundtrack, there's a playlist at the end...

There are many good things about being a stripper, something Alex Rider had realized very quickly into his foray in exotic dancing. It was a way to make money that didn’t conflict with university; the hours were flexible, so when MI6 invariably sent him on a mission, he wouldn’t be punished for absenteeism; a lot of his payment came from cash tips so he could get away with not reporting it to, say, the taxman, or depositing it in something official where MI6 could get their hands on it.

An added bonus was that no ‘6 agent would be caught dead in his place of employment. If they took photos or video of him working, great! His professors didn’t mind nor did his university, and it might even be the final nail in the coffin of his career as a coerced spy. It would be hard to keep his face or ass anonymous enough to be effective on covert missions if his half-nude gyrations were trending on YouTube. Alex could just as easily collect some evidence of his own, and he had a feeling that whichever agent was exposed as a frequent flyer of Ramrod Exotic Dancing wouldn’t take as kindly to being turned out on his ass by MI6 as he would.

Alex had taken to it easily, too. That he knows this is entirely MI6’s fault. If they hadn’t wanted him to pursue alternative revenue streams, they shouldn’t have sent him on a mission involving him prancing around a stage in shiny shorts and a Captain America crop top with financial incentive (“But I’m British,” Alex couldn’t help but pointing out when Jones dropped the flimsy costume on his desk. “And you’ll be servicing queen and country,” she snapped before leaving him to try to squeeze himself into two tiny pieces of lycra he feared would explode from the strain.) 

They shouldn’t have let him discover that he did indeed have a knack for highly suggestive dancing and garment removal. If they hadn’t wanted him to start stripping, they should not have strongarmed him into trying a job that involved having literal wads of cash shoved into his jockstrap. They should’ve paid him more. Or at all.

It wasn’t as though Alex’s natural affinity for the pole and the stage came entirely out of left field. He’s athletic, he’s got The Moves, he’s already got a musical theater background so he understands rhythm and flow. He’s been knocked unconscious and stripped so many times (thank you, MI6, for kicking that particular tradition off) that doing it of his own volition in front of a very appreciative audience doesn’t even make him blink. MI6 pushed him into this, really. One of the few good things they’ve ever done for him.

That’s not to say it’s all glitz and glamor, but the establishment he works for takes care of its dancers and Mila watches the floor like a hawk. She can’t catch everything, of course, or stop all of the inebriated and enthusiastic gropers, but nothing ever gets too out of control. And nobody’s gotten too handsy after that second night, either.

Alex was still learning the ropes at the time; he’d been warned that it was a hazard of the job, and the best thing to do was remove the hand (or face, or foot) firmly but politely and avoid that area of the stage for the next few songs. By that time, the grabby individual would have grown bored and he could carry on with his evening. Some were more persistent, and they were thrown out. Mila ran a tight ship. It wouldn’t do to have her valued employees menaced by patrons.

Alex was startled but not surprised, therefore, when he felt a very firm squeeze of his ass involving far more skin-to-skin contact than would be considered appropriate for a Swedish gluteal massage. As per protocol, he removed the offending appendage from his posterior and hip-thrusted to a less gropy area of the stage.

Unfortunately, Mr. Squeezy didn’t seem to get the hint as a few minutes later, he was reaching for Alex’s pelvis again (the front this time) and had just made contact when Alex smacked his hand away. _It’s okay_ , he told himself, _at least I’m conscious this time. Maybe he’ll leave a tenner next time he tries to have a go_.

But next time never came. Focused as he was on twerking in sync with Dschingis Khan’s _Moskau_ , he couldn’t help but hear the commotion a few minutes later towards the far end of the club. It wasn’t Mila; she was still by the bar. There were a few shouts and crashes, then silence. The grabby man didn’t appear again and whoever was responsible for taking him out was gone by the time Alex’s shift was over and he had changed into jeans and a t-shirt that did not show his midriff. When he asked Mila about it she shrugged, and it didn’t matter in the end who had stepped in because the message had been clear and he hasn't been bothered since.

Alex forgets about the incident entirely until a few months later, when he finishes a shift and arrives in the dressing room only to find a very dead Yassen Gregorovich sitting on his makeup counter. Alex’s first thought is how unfair it is that the man still looks ridiculously attractive despite being nearly twice his age not to mention officially _deceased_ for the past seven years. His second thought is how he got in there. His third thought (and probably the one that should’ve come to him sooner) is what in God’s name the assassin wants with him and if he shouldn’t have put off getting that will notarized.

Alex is still frozen in place a minute later when Yassen pushes himself languidly to his feet and walks with a smooth grace towards Alex’s motionless frame. _How does he always make it look like he’s dancing_ , Alex thinks hazily, as Yassen stands in front of him for a moment, appraising, before taking his shoulders and gently steering him towards the one seat that’s not covered with glitter, spandex, or feather boas.

Alex is still staring when Yassen resumes his earlier perch on the makeup counter. “Alex,” he prompts.

“Uhhh…”

Yassen’s face maintains its usual placid expression but Alex thinks he sees the ghost of a smile flit across his lips and eyes. “I see the years at university have done wonders for your eloquence,” he muses.

“Erm…”

“I do approve of your new choice of career,” Yassen continues, waving around the dimly-lit, clothes-strewn dressing room. “Mila is much more considerate of her employees than Jones.”

This gets through to Alex. “You know Mila?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Yassen raises an eyebrow. “Would you believe it if I said I was her best customer?” he asks.

“Not really,” Alex manages.

Yassen laughs.

“You’re not dead,” Alex says finally. His brain finally seems to be making up some of the lag that took hold the second he saw Yassen sitting in the room.

“Not for years now,” Yassen acknowledges.

“How did you get in here?”

“As I said, I know Mila.”

“But you aren’t her best customer.”

“No.” A pause. “That was a joke. Given your fondness for sarcasm and smart remarks, I thought you might appreciate it.”

“I’m still processing the not dead thing,” Alex says faintly.

“It can take some time to get used to,” Yassen responds sympathetically.

Alex’s mind finally circles back to the questions that are probably more relevant to his immediate future. “Why are you here? Is it to kill me? I’d rather you not, if my input means anything.”

A shadow of… something flickers in Yassen’s eyes. Alex isn’t sure whether it’s good or bad. He’s also not certain if he wants to hear Yassen’s response. “No,” Yassen says finally, his voice measured. “I am not here to kill you.”

“Information, then? I’ll have you know ‘6 still tells me fuck-all, though I’d be happy to tell you Blunt’s address for free. I finally tracked it down.”

Yassen twitches at this, as though he’s filing that interesting tidbit way for later. “No, little Alex, I’m not here for information. Or to hurt you, or threaten you.”

Nice to have that out of the way, but Alex is more flummoxed than ever. “Why, then?”

“I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by. See how you’re doing.”

“It’s been seven years,” Alex points out. “A bit of a gap between visits.”

“True. I was busy.”

“Busy with…?”

“At first, extracting myself from MI6’s subpar hospitality,” Yassen says. Ouch. Alex hadn’t considered that. Yassen must see the change in Alex’s expression because he waves his concern away. “No need to worry about that, it’s in the past.”

“Okay…”

“And now that I’ve retired…” he catches sight of Alex’s skeptical expression and amends his statement, “or more retired than I was before, I had the time to drop in on my favorite child spy.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” Alex points out.

“I can see that,” Yassen replies, amused. “Unlike your masters at MI6, Mila does not employ children.”

Alex rolls his eyes at the use of the term “masters.” Pointed, somewhat stilted, and on the edge of innuendo. It feels very Yassen. “So why here? Tonight?"

“I knew you were working tonight and I wanted to see your full set, as I got cut off last time. See what all the fuss was about. Mila speaks very highly of you.”

Alex’s mind catches on those words and grinds to a halt. “Last time? You’ve seen me… here? Before?” Alex isn’t ashamed, he really isn’t, it’s a great job that he loves and there’s absolutely nothing morally wrong about it despite what some of his more puritanical colleagues at MI6 might say, but there is something odd about being watched by a person you know and not realizing they’re in the audience.

Yassen nods. “Your second day, I believe it was. There was a, ah, a member of the audience who did not behave in an acceptable manner. I had to give him some lessons in courtesy, and after that Mila advised I return another night.”

“Gropey? That was you? I mean, you were the one who threw an entire dish rack at him?”

“Mila was appropriately reimbursed.”

Alex laughs outright. “I had wondered… thanks for that. So,” he says. Suddenly Yassen’s deadly hands seem much less distracting than the ice-blue eyes that stare into his soul or his graceful dancer’s body or those chiseled lips… Alex clears his throat again. “So. You wanted to catch up. What did you have in mind?”

Yassen smiles, sly, catlike. “I had thought we could go for dinner.”

“Dinner? It’s late.”

“You need to eat.”

“I need to eat,” Alex echoes.

“Perhaps a show.”

“A show? Everything’s closed.”

“That’s right,” Yassen says slowly, as though he’s waiting for Alex to fit together the final piece of a maddening puzzle. “Everything is closed.”

“So… _oh_.”

Yassen nods, pleased.

“A private show,” Alex says, trying to hide his growing smile.

“Something along those lines, yes.”

“With me.”

“Yes.”

“And you.”

“Naturally.”

“And… dinner.”

“That was the idea, yes,” Yassen says. His voice is breathy, low, and Alex needs to lean towards him to catch it all.

“I would like that.”

“Would you?”

“Very much.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

“Now?”

“Civilian clothes, first,” Yassen prompts.

Alex looks at Yassen. Smiles. “And then…”

“Yes.”

Five minutes later, Alex has emerged from the dressing room (which Yassen insisted on vacating due to “gentlemanly decorum”) and into the cool air of an October night. Yassen is leaning on the wall, lazy, loitering, utterly at ease. Alex’s smile broadens when he sees him. He can’t hide it. Doesn’t want to.

Yassen peels himself off the wall and steps close to Alex. Even in the dark, Alex can see his long lashes brushing against pale cheeks as he languidly blinks. Yassen speaks first.

“Shall we go?”

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alex's stripper set (by me):**
> 
> [_Moskau_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvS351QKFV4) \- Dschinghis Khan  
> [ _I'm Too Sexy_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5mtclwloEQ) \- Right Said Fred  
> [ _Copacabana_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=toV8Lb9h0Vs) \- Barry Manilow (thanks, BurntWhisper!)  
> [ _Set You Free_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4E7akIu9zEM) \- REYKO (thanks, Netflix's _Toy Boy_!)  
> [ _Super Freak_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYHxGBH6o4M) \- Rick James  
> [ _Yo Perreo Sola_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtSRKwDCaZM) \- Bad Bunny  
> [ _Rasputin_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16y1AkoZkmQ) \- Boney M


	2. A Mildly Spicy Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of a certain commenter, I have written an epilogue to this fic. I've had to up the rating to mature because of this, but I think it's worth it. (GatherWood--which is a weirdly suggestive name for the person leading the purity brigade--this one's for you!)

Alex wakes up the next day in Yassen’s bed. He is achy, bruised, and covered in bite marks. It had been a wild night of marathon sex during which the two men enthusiastically explored every nook and cranny of each other’s bodies.

Alex senses movement and tilts his head to see that Yassen is awake and staring at him, a fond smile on his face. Alex grins back.

“Good morning,” says Yassen.

“Good morning,” replies Alex. “Great sex last night. Not sure I’ll be able to walk for the next week.”

“If you could, I’d have been remiss in my duties.”

Alex stares into Yassen’s ice-blue eyes as the other man licks his chiseled lips meaningfully. “I did have a question,” Alex says.

“Ask away.”

“Is it weird and morally questionable that you met me when I was a child and we’re having sex now?”

Yassen shrugs. “You aren’t a child anymore. You said so yourself—very explicitly, and numerous times. It was even mentioned in the third-person limited narrative. We’re two enthusiastically consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies. What moral objections could anybody but the most pearl-clutchingly prudish have against this? And I think it’s safe to say we both wanted it.”

Alex’s mind drifts to the night before, and his smile grows wider. He certainly _did_ want it last night. And boy did he get it. “You’re right,” he decides. “Ready for round… what is it this time? I’ve lost count.”

“Doesn’t matter,” replies Yassen, already fondling unmentionable parts of Alex’s anatomy. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

And they proceeded to have vigorous intercourse for the rest of the weekend until the downstairs neighbors called in a sound complaint and they relocated to a remote cabin in Russia to fuck some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Yalex sex playlist (also by me)**
> 
> [_I Know You Want Me_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFoxg4IFtqc) \- Pitbull  
> [ _Let's Talk About Sex_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydrtF45-y-g) \- Salt-N-Pepa  
> [ _Amor Prohibido_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvfZ95ueOcQ) \- Selena (QEPD)  
> [ _You Shook Me All Night Long_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lo2qQmj0_h4) \- AC/DC  
> [ _Mayores_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GMFewiplIbw) \- Becky G, Bad Bunny  
> [ _I Just Had Sex_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQlIhraqL7o) \- Lonely Island ft. Akon  
> [ _Ave Maria_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8KL63r9Zcw) \- Schubert, performed by Maria Callas


End file.
